


You Know I've Come To Bring You Peace (There's No More Alcohol)

by teamfreeawesome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Depression, Fuckbuddies, Jock!Liam, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, artist!zayn, brief mentions of Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreeawesome/pseuds/teamfreeawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Zayn sleeps with Liam - and it’s both the best and worst thing he’s ever done.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know I've Come To Bring You Peace (There's No More Alcohol)

**Author's Note:**

> Um. This was _supposed_ to be the next fic in my "I Just Know I Can't Stop Thinking Of You" series, but then it got off track and became an angsty mess of epic proportions. But rest assured that I am actually writing the _real_ fic as I speak ;) 
> 
> Basically, I have no idea what happened. Everything I write at the moment seems to have this veneer of _sad_. 
> 
> And poor, baby Zayn. :( But turnabout is fair play - I wrote a mean!Zayn before, so apparently I must write a mean!Liam *cries* (I love Liam - why did I do this??)
> 
> Not beta-d because I'm not sure I want to subject her to the sad :S Plus she's got an awful lot of work at the moment, so mostly I'm just wishing her luck! <3 So, if you guys see any typos etc, definitely let me know. 
> 
> Title taken from 'Curtain Call' by Aiden Grimshaw
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not true. It's a work of fiction and no harm was meant by the writing of this. To me: fanfiction One Direction are fictional characters. I don’t, in any way, equate the stories to their real-life counter parts, because they aren’t the same people. Also, please, nobody send this to anyone included in this fic or anyone that they know.
> 
> Comments/kudos are tremendously appreciated - and often make me squeal at my computer screen <3 Seriously, they make me super happy because you're all so lovely :)

Zayn sleeps with Liam - and it’s both the best and worst thing he’s ever done.

*

Zayn spends afternoons feeling off kilter, his steps off beat and hesitant as he wades through layers of artwork that he feels too raw to finish. He’s balancing precariously on a precipice, heart beating up a storm as he staggers on the edge. Every flicker of warmth that brushes over him - dealt out by smiling eyes that trail fire over Zayn’s skin - leaves him trembling and dishevelled as he frays and unravels. Each lump Zayn swallows around feels like a throb of _Liam_ and an echo of _please_. Under Liam’s gaze, Zayn feels stripped back and revealed – his _feelings_ spread open, naked and vulnerable.

And Zayn feels like he’s fighting a losing battle, trying to draw enough air into his lungs - because every moment with Liam is like a kick to the chest. The aftermath of Liam is a punch of breathlessness and a glisten of hope. Liam is a tangle of smoke around Zayn’s heart – and he’s infused so deep into Zayn’s bones that in two hundred years, he’ll be left a shattered skeleton with the curve of Liam’s name carved indelibly into his ribs.

He feels _alight_ with Liam. He’s burning up inside with this scorching _passion,_ and he feels so _deeply_ he’s worried that he might combust where he stands – his love a flare into the night, the essence of him written across the sky. He’s full to the brim with _longing_ and _affection_ and it’s all spilling out. It’s bubbling past his skin and

                                                                        - he’s panicking and trying to shove it all back where it belongs but it won’t go, it _won’t_.

*

It’s been a year since they met at the football social, and Zayn. He _loves_ Liam.

It’s been a year and his heart beats to the sound of Liam.

It’s been a year and Zayn feels crippled beneath the weight of _wanting_.

Liam is Zayn’s safe haven and it _burns_. After horrible, awful days at university – days that feel like someone has carved into his belly and filled him with an empty ache, his face lost in the sea of people – he comes home to a Liam spread out across Harry’s sofa. He closes the front door behind him, tries to shake off the loneliness – and it’s all he can do to stop himself curling into Liam’s side and wailing. It’s all he can do to stop himself sinking in beside Liam and letting the balm of him soothe Zayn’s hurt. He wants to bury himself in Liam’s _happy_ and revel in his _bright_. But he _can’t_ because Liam isn’t Zayn’s to want. He isn’t interested in _more_.

So Zayn stiffens and lets a veneer of _prickly_ descend, his face closing over.

He can’t _do_ this anymore.

So. He builds himself a wall, steadily – brick by brick. He builds it tall, hiding his aching heart at the very centre, before shutting it tight behind him. He withdraws softly from Liam as he goes – removes the fingers tangled into his muscles and sinews – and closes his eyes on a breath.

But this self-preservation – it _hurts_. Because each rebuff causes Liam’s face to fall; causes him to swallow hard as his lip trembles and – _god_ Zayn hates this. It’s _shit_ and it _hurts_ but he just –

He doesn’t know what else to do.

*

Six weeks into term, the nights slowly lengthening as frost settles in layers over the grass, Zayn feels like he’s drowning beneath his work. His hands tremble as he fights to complete assignment after assignment, shadows heavy beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. He closes his eyes and lights another cigarette. _Stress-smoking_ , Harry calls it, when Zayn can’t go five minutes without lighting up. _It’s stress-smoking, and it’s not healthy_. But Zayn’s fingers tighten around the roll and he already feels stronger – already feels like he can hold himself up better. The smoke curls down into his lungs and something settles inside Zayn. He opens his eyes and exhales, shoulders relaxing. He can _do_ this.

It’s just. It doesn’t help that he _misses_ Liam.

*

Liam is all _warmth_ and _delight_ and _sweet_ and Zayn –

Zayn wants to get _sticky_ with him.

*

Zayn’s small studio is his _escape_. The lighting is harsh and sterile, the bulb hanging down from the ceiling on a broken wire, casting deep shadows across Zayn’s face as he paints. Spread out across the room, Zayn’s art lies like a scream of _i love you_. He feels like he’s yanked out his insides and splashed them across canvas for the world to see. It’s _painful_ and _vulnerable_ and Zayn feels _bared_.

He stands, and his feelings stare out at him as he moves. Their gaze lies heavy against his back as he washes his brushes – and it’s _hurt_ and _shame_ soaking through his shirt as he shivers.

He’s hunched on the concrete floor - and it’s the scratch of _no no no_ into his heart as he breathes out the essence of himself into his art and - 

He  _can't._

 

Because now. Now he’s just an empty _husk_. Everything he is – it’s smeared out across the canvas and sometimes just looking at it –

Zayn can’t _breathe_.

*

 

He watches the weeks as they move past him and - he still _wants_ but.

It's an ache, not a slash of a knife across his wounded heart.

And that's...

               better.  

 

*

It’s opening night of his exhibition and Zayn exhales slowly. His heart clenches as he looks at himself, spread _naked_ across the room. It’s weird and jolting – watching as people peer into his heart and judge what they see there. It makes his chest tighten and his fists clench because _this_ –

It’s for Liam only.

He closes his eyes around the humiliation and _breathes_.

*

And suddenly it’s Liam looking at Zayn, stripped back to his bones, the pulse of his heart vulnerable and aching.

“I didn’t know this was how you felt, Zayn. I didn’t _know_.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Also, like, I know nothing about art, art degrees, etc. as I'm sure you can all tell. So, uh, massive apologies to those of you out there that _do_ know about that stuff :S And I sorta messed around with, like, student budgets because: a studio, Zayn?? Seriously??? HAHAHAHAAAA I don't think so.  
>  2\. ILU ALL <3


End file.
